Amongst the Stars
by MidnightEmber
Summary: As Viserys Targaryen lies at the feet of Khal Drogo, gold pouring over silver hair, he understands the truth of the term 'fire can not kill a dragon' for he would rise again.


**~ Amongst the Stars ~**

**Summary: **As Viserys Targaryen lies at the feet of Khal Drogo, gold pouring over silver hair, he understands the truth of the term 'fire can not kill a dragon' for he would rise again.

**Warning: **Character Death, War, Blood and Gore,

**Pairings:** Khal Drogo/Viserys Targaryen

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. If I did, Viserys would have a far greater character development.

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><p><strong>~ Chapter One ~<strong>

Viserys panicked. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Khal Drogo melting gold in a pot. The giant of a man radiated purpose. Truth be told, Viserys didn't know much about his brother-in-law apart from the fact he was strong, fierce, and determined to claim anything he desired. This determination though was currently aimed at Viserys and his approaching death.

He didn't know where threatening his sister and the unborn child would get him. Drinking too much, he'd stumbled into the celebration. No one had invited him. They hadn't bothered. Viserys Targaryen, though related to their Khalessi, wasn't of any interest to their tribe. But seeing her present amongst a foreign people, being accepted even though from a different land, brought bitterness to the surface he hadn't dealt with in a long time. He'd lashed out and now he was paying the price.

As much as his sister would like, he couldn't remain the clueless and insolent Beggar King when faced with this situation. He knew what Khal Drogo intended to do with the pot. He knew the Khal planned on granting him his wish of a golden crown only it wouldn't be the crown he desired. This crown he was not meant to survive.

He screamed for his sister. Begged her to move and stop her Horse Lord husband from killing the only family she'd had as a child. She didn't move. There was a stillness to her he didn't recognize. Daenerys stood confident and proud. She stood, not like a dragon, but like a horse judging its new rider. This life had changed her. It had changed them both. Daenerys stood surrounded by people who chanted her name. Viserys knelt in the dirt.

It shouldn't have been this way. He had been promised warriors who would aid in taking back his kingdom. All he had to offer was his sister and he'd gladly handed her over for the chance to return home. People had promised he would sit the Iron Throne like his father had done that he would rule the Seven Kingdoms as his family had done for generations.

His dreams were tumbling down around him. He had nothing else to give nothing left to offer. Years spent on the streets begging for food to keep his sister healthy now seemed wasted. He had led his entire life to keep Daenerys safe and protected only for her to bring his death. It shouldn't have been this way. They were meant to go home but he had nothing left. Now it would seem even his life was forfeit.

Viserys didn't hear the words Khal Drogo spoke to him as he lifted the pot above Visery's head. He was too busy screaming at his sister to intervene. This was not how he wanted to have lived his life. This wasn't how it was meant to end.

Her violet eyes stared blankly at him. She barely breathed as she waited for his death. Viserys felt close to tears. His sister wanted him dead. His sister was waiting for his death to confirm some thought tucked away in her head.

Heat licked at Viserys as molten gold poured over his eyes and obstructing his view. He wasn't certain if he'd stopped screaming for his sister in those moments. The heat bathed him and he jerked trying to free himself. There was no escape though. The gold dripped from his head rapidly cooling and creating a mask to hide from the world.

The weight of the gold caused his body to slump forward, his head meeting the dirt with a solid thump. His vision blurred. His body sagged. Sounds bounced around his head as the gold bounced along the rocks on the ground. Skin tore as his clothes were shredded by the debris adding yet warmth to his body. Ankles were finally free from their tugging and hit the ground hard as they were dropped. Viserys didn't offer a sound as the heat of the evening encompassed his body.

Peeking through the golden crown, there was nothing but darkness stretching across his vision. Bright lights blinked down at him. Stars, Viserys recalled as he grew weary, and for once he wished nothing more than to join them.

x-x-x-x-x

Blue sky greeted violet eyes as Viserys woke. The rising heat of the day scorched the crown still covering his skull yet he didn't move. Shock coursed through his body. Agony radiated from his shredded back and the surface beneath him felt like pins. Yet he was alive and he didn't know why.

At first he hadn't been certain he'd lived through his crowning but the golden crown still encompassing his skull weighed him down. He felt the remnants of pain from his journey across the ground. His muscles ached, his head felt like it wanted to split in two. There was nothing that felt remotely normal about his body. He had survived his ordeal however and he didn't know why because he certainly didn't deserve it.

The Dothraki people had no reason to look at him in a favourable way. Regardless of how much he had learnt about the Dothraki people in preparation for the union he hadn't bothered to use any of his knowledge to aid his sister or attempt to befriend the people. He'd spent the time sulking like he was five and Rhaegar wouldn't teach him to handle a sword. The madness which his father had released upon the Seven Kingdoms had been exposed to the Dothraki people through him.

Viserys had become something he'd feared in his father. The Mad King hadn't just terrorized the people but also his family. Somewhere along the way Viserys had done the same. There was little wonder why his sister wanted nothing to do with him, why she had done nothing but watch as her husband poured gold over his head. No one wanted to be near a person drenched in madness.

Yet his past actions only brought more questions. He didn't feel like the lunatic he'd been before. His thoughts were clear. He didn't feel the need to rush towards the Seven Kingdoms with an army he barely knew. There was nothing about his sister which enraged him either. Certainly he didn't blame her for choosing the husband who protected her from everyone. But she had given up hope that Viserys would stop being a tyrant. She hadn't tried to aid him. Instead she had watched as Drogo had offered a killing blow.

It was in this moment that something must have changed. The gold had offered Viserys a fresh start and he had a feeling there was a hint within the phrase associated with their family. Fire can not kill a dragon. Viserys had always been taught that the phrase was related to the dragons they helped birth. Dragons were born in the flames, they breathed fire; they were fire and magic and couldn't be slain with either. As such, the Targaryens picked up the words Fire and Blood.

There were no mentions of a Targaryen being reborn in flame. Through all of the stories the family had carried through the ages, not one mentioned a Targaryen without a dragon. The dragons seemed to be the main focus of the story leaving the Targaryens to be accessories in their grand adventures and Viserys wondered perhaps if this wasn't done on purpose.

As far as Viserys knew, he was the only one in the past few generations to be touched by flames the way dragons were born. His father had died with a sword in his back watching as people burned. Rhaegar had died on the battlefield surrounded by his men but lusting after a woman he couldn't have. Neither had been killed by fire. Viserys hadn't truly been touched by the flames but the molten gold had burnt as fire pouring over his head. Much like a dragon, Viserys Targaryen had been born from flame.

Viserys rolled onto his side trying to get relief for his back. The heat sweltered inside the crown but it was his back which truly caused him pain. They had left him on the dirt, an offering for the vultures, and in both cultures this was a huge insult. They hadn't sought to respect what they believed to be his deceased body but instead only sought to further separate him from the royalty of his bloodline.

Truly, he didn't deserve such a fine fate as to be respected in a burial by fire. What he had brought upon the Dothraki people couldn't be healed by his death alone. Even now, through the holes in his crown, he could see a kart sitting beside him adding yet another insult. A sword pocked from the back of the cart. Viserys huffed laughing; they hadn't even thought his belongings were worthy enough to keep with them for trade.

He shivered, suppressing the urge to allow his emotions to surface. Now wasn't the time to fall apart. Rhaegar would have picked himself up, armed with a sword, and charged after those who offered him such a grand insult. He hadn't been much good with a sword even as he asked Jamie Lannister to teach him when his brother was away. Jamie had always laughed at his attempts pointing him towards other fields of honor. Viserys had kept the sword Jamie had given him though so his father wouldn't question why he didn't have one.

Swallowing back memories, Viserys rolled onto his front and pushed himself up onto his knees. The crown weighed greatly upon him. Reaching up, he prodded the edges of his crown feeling away along the edge which pooled around his chin and up along the front of his face.

The gold hadn't set perfectly. It was meant to be formed into small, strong shapes and not into curves over somebody's head. There were areas where the gold was thick closer to the bottom of his chin and areas on the top of his head which were thin. Holes dotted the region, likely where pieces had fallen off as he'd been dragged along the ground.

Taking a breath, Viserys placed his hands on either side of his head fingers facing towards the sky. Slowly he pushed inward pressing the gold further against his skull. He felt nothing but a light pressure and then the gold beneath his fingertips broke raining gold before his eyes. They fell like stars streaking across the sky each bringing a different light.

Standing, Viserys marvelled at the wasteland before him. The vast land stretched across the horizon with barely any rise and fall. There were a few trees but most of the area was dirt and bush, a dry land with very little water, and he had no idea which direction he'd been dumped at. They hadn't bothered to leave him in their precious city. Instead they had taken the time to gather his belongings place them in a cart and drag them both out into the wilderness.

In the cart, his meagre belongings hadn't been touched. No one had travelled by him and decided to loot the poor dead man on the road. Viserys was thankful for this. He didn't have food but he had his sword and his coat. He had his bag which contained a few of his more sentimental belongings and a few of the books he had bothered to bring with him. Buried beneath all of this were the objects of value he could use to barter his way towards any location he desired.

Gathering his belongings he stared at the cart trying to decide what to do with the object. He had to admit it was well made. The Dothraki people his sister had married into certainly knew how to create useful objects. However, even if it were worth a small fortune to people he didn't have anything to move it with.

"You seem lost."

Viserys startled, hand jumping to the hilt of his sword as he turned. A person of Dothraki descent stood before him holding the reigns of a horse. Behind the horse were bags of what appeared to be trade goods. Yet not another person was in sight. The Dothraki didn't move except to look between Viserys and his horseless cart.

Viserys frowned, speaking slowly he replied. "I seem alone and insane."

He couldn't help but add the last part. Standing in the middle of nowhere with his belongings and a cart couldn't have looked any better than threatening an unborn child for the chance to wear a rule a kingdom he hadn't set foot on since he was a child.

The Dothraki laughed and said words much too quickly for Viserys to understand.

"You speak Dothraki?" the man finally said.

Viserys nodded. "I learnt it to gain an understanding of the people I travelled with. I didn't use it though."

Brown eyes narrowed upon him sizing him up. "You were sneaky?"

It took Viserys sometime before he could recognize what the Dothraki was implying. Viserys had indeed devised a plan upon learning the language. He hadn't bothered to speak a word of it while he was present only listening to what the people spoke of. This he wouldn't deny.

"Yes, but as you can see it didn't do much good."

The Dothraki nodded not bothering to further question Viserys' misfortune. "Why did you want to understand the people?"

Viserys truly didn't want to answer this man's questions. However he was unlikely to wander this wasteland and come across another person willing to approach a pale man they'd never seen before. He was a foreigner in their land and he hadn't endeared himself to many people. This man was all he could pin his hope on.

"I had a… friend who was joining their people. She didn't know anything about them. I learnt; I need to make sure they were people I could place my faith in. I didn't offer her advice though and I didn't offer them my faith in return. I only sought my own gain."

The brutal honesty of the words had Viserys shivering. Admitting the truth, especially to oneself, was never an easy task. These had been the first clear and honest words he'd spoken in a long time. It felt relieving to offer such a freedom to a stranger.

"You were left here?" the Dothraki questioned.

"They thought I was dead."

Yet again he spoke a simple truth. One, however, in which Viserys could only count his blessings. Thinking he was dead, they had left his carcass on the side of a road, his belongings laid out in a simple cart. He dreaded to think what would have happened if he had been discovered alive whilst still in the Dothraki camp. It couldn't have been more humiliating or torturous than having one's loved one watch eager as you died.

The Dothraki gestured towards him. "Is that how you lost your hair?"

"What?"

Disbelief crossed his face. Viserys reached up and came in contact not with silver locks but with a smooth scalp. His hair hadn't survived the crowning. Yet it was possibly another bonus. It was a rarity in the Seven Kingdoms to have such fine hair. Amongst the Dothraki, there were only two such people and they weren't difficult to miss.

Should he dress accordingly, not many people would recognize him as Viserys Targaryen. They would just see a traveller, another beggar, who worked for any money he could find. It wouldn't be what he desired after years of begging to keep his life together. He was alive and he wasn't about to waste it complaining like a prince.

"Could you lead me to a village?" Viserys questioned.

It wouldn't take much to set up his life for a few months within the Dothraki people. Viserys knew not all of them moved around as freely as the Khal's. Most of the Dothraki people worked like farmers back in the Seven Kingdoms. They held land and they only moved to new ground when their current location couldn't offer them any more sustenance. He would be able to regain his bearing and his plans with a roof over his head even if it was simply a tent.

"I will help you but only if you offer trade."

Both looked at Viserys' meagre belongings. Truly there was only one thing that would interest the man and appeal to Viserys' nature.

"You could have the cart for trade." Viserys offered. "I don't need it and I doubt the people I was with will return for it."

Even if they did return for the cart or to look at the body of the once Cart King, they wouldn't find what they were expecting. Anyone could have made off with the cart. It wasn't like they had left Viserys with the means to take it with him. They would believe someone else had taken it and since they were all converged under the wonderful grandeur of his soon to be nephew they wouldn't retaliate. It would be an inconvenience at best.

The Dothraki looked at the cart noting the detail and craftsmanship. Viserys could tell it was good work but he wouldn't be able to tell the man what it was for or what it would be worth. If the man found any use for it, only he would be able to tell and if he didn't well Viserys had no use for it anyway.

Dark eyes searched the cart, the man taking long strides up and down the cart. He searched the sturdiness of the cart and the structure beneath. The wheels were prodded and the seat tested. The horse even gave a toss of his head in agreement for what the Dothraki thought.

"Agreed, help me with the horse."

Viserys aided the Dothraki wherever the man pointed.

"I am Viserys." He offered.

Viserys knew offering his name could have disastrous consequences. He hadn't desired to allow anyone to know who he was but he couldn't step into this new life and allow the people he would be introduced to take a risk in offering him comfort. He wanted to do better by the people of this land. After this he would keep a lower profile but until then he would allow these people knowledge of who they were entrusting their faith.

"That is not a common name here." The Dothraki commented.

The look the man gave Viserys said it all. He knew exactly who Viserys was and he didn't plan on saying a word. He wasn't even going to acknowledge it. Hope sparked in Viserys' heart for the first time since his mother died.

"It's not a common name where I was born either." He replied.

Together, and with much instruction on the Dothraki's part, they cleared the cart and gathered Viserys' belongings securely. The horse had also been secured to the cart and was ready to start carrying the load in whatever direction the man urged. At the man's behest, Viserys sat next to him at the front of the cart. Viserys knew this was an acceptance of a chance within and didn't complain.

x-x-x-x-x

The village was not the see of tents Viserys had imagined. Instead huts were strewn about with streets carving ways between sets of buildings. It reminded him of a few of the villages he had seen as he'd travelled to watch as his brother fought in tourneys. They were rough and didn't have windows or doors but they were enough to keep the warmth of the day from overwhelming the people.

Viserys could hear the ocean nearby, could smell the salty tang. It brought back so many memories yet none which he could say truly he desired to recall. Every one of them led to this moment and he couldn't afford to think on the past in this instant.

The cart drew attention. People they passed waited for them to pass before following behind at a sedate pace. Viserys tensed. He knew the people were following for a reason. His status as their Khalessi's brother would have been broadcast around but he didn't believe they would truly ignore this upon their first meeting.

"You should relax," the Dothraki suggested, "They do not plan to harm you."

Viserys didn't feel relieved to hear this information. If anything it was only more cause for concern. They wanted to meet him which meant the man beside him hadn't stumbled across him by accident. These people all belonging to the Dothraki had sought him out. They wanted something from him and he hadn't a clue to what that might be.

As they reached the market stalls amongst the village every person had gathered around them. Children stared at him with wide eyes while the adults watched him with caution. They didn't hold terror in their faces or disgust like those who had surrounded themselves with Daenerys. These people knew exactly who he was and yet they didn't share the same sentiments.

The Dothraki man beside him ushered him from the cart and for once Viserys held the attention of a group of people who didn't hold any distaste for his previous actions. The group gathered was quiet as they waited. Viserys stood tall as he would when addressing his people of the Seven Kingdom should he ever return. He was determined this time to act as a Prince should and make the Targaryen name burn into the minds of those who approached.

"My name is Viserys Targaryen. I am brother to Daenerys Targaryen, your Khaleesi." Viserys introduced. "Throughout my time spent on your lands I have not been the kindest man. I have not been the bravest man or the smartest man. I have won no wars or stepped into battle and it took me to step close to death to realize my mistakes."

These were not the words spoken by a Dothraki. Viserys could tell the people were listening but his speech wasn't highly inspiring. He didn't have anything to be proud of where they placed their pride. His hair lacked braids when he still had hair. Though he still carried the weapon, he was abysmal with a sword. The best he could do was ride a horse with ease.

Nor did they have no reason to trust what he was saying. Regardless of the fact they lived apart from the hoard of roaming Dothraki people, they still had contact with Khal Drogo and his people. They had heard all of the stories surrounding him why would they receive him any differently than Khal Drogo and his people?

"If you do not want me here, I will understand. You can tell me to leave and I will not return, I will not ask for you to provide me with anything as I leave. I don't have anything to offer you and I don't believe Khal Drogo would be pleased at finding me here amongst you. Should you choose to allow me to stay I will offer my aid in whatever way you need for as long as I am present."

Viserys felt this was a weak agreement. He truly had nothing to offer them. He was not the warrior they desired. Yet as an aged man stepped forward, his hair braided and lengthy, Viserys startled. He'd never seen such an aged man amongst those travelling with the Khal.

"You shall learn to be a dragon as your sister has learnt to be a horse."

The people murmured in agreement smiling at Viserys. As he viewed the crowd he didn't find one person who seemed disgruntled at this arrangement. Everyone stood in encouragement around Viserys much like when his sister had finished tearing at the heart of a horse and named her son. These people didn't quite worship him but they saw potential in him they desired to feed and fuel. They didn't want another horse warlord. They wanted a dragon.

Viserys smiled back at the people surrounding him inviting them to approach and speak. Daenerys had desired to know whether he was a dragon. She would never find out.

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><p><strong>I've been wanting to write this for awhile now. So here it is. My very first fanfiction featuring G.R. 's world. Enjoy.<strong>

**~MidnightEmber**


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